


With You To The End of the World

by Liara_90



Category: RWBY
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Happy Ending, Love, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Velvet cares so much about the world, and it's a cruel irony that she feels so much pain as a result.</p><p>You don't always know how to comfort her. You don't know what to say, what to do. All you can do is be there for her, until the end of the world.</p><p>Coco and Velvet. Hurt and comfort, sorrow and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You To The End of the World

It's the faintest of movements that wake you from your slumber.

She never thrashes in her sheets, never awakens screaming from a nightmare or lashes out at unseen monsters. You sigh a little - _of course she wouldn't_. Velvet's never been one to draw attention to herself, why should her inner demons be any different? You've seen it happen before but not for a few nights now, you were beginning to hope that the worst of the trauma was behind her.

You gently prop yourself up on your pillow, not bothering to turn on the lamp beside you. Even with the curtains drawn enough moonlight trickles in to illuminate your bedroom, and you've spent enough time cooped up here that you could navigate it blindfolded. Another _sigh_. While you love five-star hotels as much as anyone, this was never supposed to become 'home'.

Velvet's body takes up a small sliver of the King size bed, even less when she's curled up into herself. She has her back to you, her face pressed into the sheets, but you don't need to see her eyes to know that she's crying. She lets out choked sobs at an irregular _staccato_ , doing her best to muffle what little noise escapes. Her shoulders shake a little with each wet cough, an occasional _sniffle_ the only other noise. Her leporine ears are curled inward, and you know her fingers are clutching the sheets, grasping them as if holding on for dear life. It's a little unsettling, but at least her fingernails aren't digging into her own skin anymore.

You don't say anything, because quite frankly you have no idea what to say. Or rather, you've already said everything you could possibly think of. That it wasn't her fault. That she did everything she could. That you'd always be here for her, for as long as she wanted. So you save your voice, instead just running your fingers through her hair with the utmost gentleness. _Dust_ , you love her hair. You've tried every hair product on the market - and quite a few still in R&D - and _nothing_ makes your hair feel as good as hers. To think that you're envious of the girl whose make-up kit had once consisted of little more than a comb.

She stops shaking a few moments later, sniffling loudly. "S-sorry Coco," she murmurs, her voice wavering slightly, still on the edge of tears. She doesn't look at you. "I didn't mean… to wake you."

You slide a bit closer to Velvet so you're practically cradling her, one arm crossing her body and prying a hand free of the sheet. "Don't worry about me," you whisper, drawing your head in close to hers while your fingers run across her knuckles. "I got enough beauty sleep already."

You're rewarded with the faintest trace of a chuckle. She sits upright, wiping tears from her eyes as she does so, before switching on the lamp by her nightstand. She's wearing a nightie the color of silver, still conservative in what it covers but a step up from the ankle-length nightgown she'd arrived to Beacon with. A snapshot flashes through your mind, of all the boutiques you'd dragged Velvet to on her first birthday with the Team. You could fit a _lot_ of shopping bags on Yatsu's arms.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask gently, sitting up to rest against the headboard. After a pause Velvet nods softly, but she doesn't say anything.

You can't guess exactly, but it's usually one of a few things. The dead bodies you'd passed, of Atlesian soldiers and White Fang grunts. Yang Xiao Long waiting for extraction, a bloodied stump where her arm used to be. Looking out at Beacon from the Bullhead, your home overrun by monsters. 

Sometimes it's hard to reconcile the Velvet you go into battle with and the Velvet you sleep beside. She's not _fearless_ on the battlefield - anyone who says they are is lying - but she throws herself into harm's way as eagerly as any Huntress. And she _hates_ fighting - you've known that since the Emerald Forest - but when innocent lives are at stake she swallows her fears, her self-doubts, puts herself in the line of fire. The girl who let herself be bullied by first-year twerps has no problem staring down a Paladin alone.

But then there's what comes after. She feels what was lost so much more acutely than you do. You don't know whether it's a strength or a weakness that you never spent too much time wondering about the innocent lives that were lost in Vale, that you could steel your heart and not look back. But you know Velvet can't. She feels their pain as acutely as if it was her own. You've idly wondered if it's somehow related to her Semblance - some kind of hyper-attentiveness to others - but it doesn't matter. Ozpin had once lectured you on the perils of detachment, of Huntresses seeing themselves as apart and above the people they were sworn to protect. But empathy was a double-edged sword, one that had cut Velvet far deeper than most.

"I was just thinking… about Pyrrha Nikos," she said softly, speaking slowly so as not to cry. Your brow furrows at this. You knew Nikos well-enough by her reputation - really who _didn't_? - but she was a year beneath you, you'd barely interacted. Velvet's schedule was a bit different from yours, she had a few more classes with first-years, but if Pyrrha had ever made an impression on your girlfriend then she had never talked about it.

There weren't actually that many student casualties at Beacon - the evacuation had gone remarkably smoothly, all things considered - but Pyrrha Nikos was the most famous exception. With the CCT down the dissemination of information had slowed to word-of-mouth, but it had eventually gotten around that she'd been killed in the Battle of Beacon. Details were sparse, and while apparently the rest of Team JNPR was safe you hadn't had any luck contacting them, either.

"I liked her a lot, too," you say, schooching closer so that you can rest a hand on her knee. That was maybe a bit of a stretch. Mostly you'd thought of Pyrrha as competition in the Vytal Festival Tournament, but she'd seemed amicable enough in-person.

Terrible taste in men, though.

Velvet doesn't seem to hear you, though, and you see the tears pooling in her eyes again. "I was thinking of her family," she begins, this time hurriedly, beginning to trip over her words. "Her parents. Do they know what happened at Beacon yet? Has anyone told them their daughter died? How many days do they have to wait not knowing-"

Her own tears cut her off, and your heart breaks for the thousandth time. You never gave Pyrrha's parents a second thought, they're just too distant, too abstract. But not so for Velvet, not for the woman you'd give your life to defend. You've never met a more caring person in your life, and it's the cruelest of ironies that that empathy brings her so much pain. You'd walk through fire to keep her safe but you know just as well that she'd never let you. In her short life she's seen so much suffering, so much hatred. She had every right to retire, to live out a life of peaceful seclusion. But she _wouldn't_ , you know, because when the next Grimm Alarm sounds she'll still be the first to the battlements.

And _that_ hurts you.

You slide around behind Velvet, enveloping her in your arms, spreading out your legs so that she can lean back into you. Her body shakes against your chest, her hair becomes a tangled mess. You run your hands up and down her bare arms for what seems like an eternity. You're not a shrink. You don't know what you're supposed to do. But as long as Velvet doesn't push you away you'll stay here till the end of the world.

"How about something to drink?" you ask, after the tears have given way to heavy breathing. She nods slightly, and you begrudgingly detach from her body, though not before leaving a few kisses at the nape of her neck.

You pad around the hotel room, barefoot, your fashionable nightwear having been replaced by an oversized Beacon Academy t-shirt weeks ago. You'd grown attached to it, for some reason, like donning it was an act of defiance. But maybe you should stop wearing it, maybe it was triggering bad memories for Velvet. You hadn't thought about that.

The hotel room has all the supplies needed to make a cup of hot chocolate, a scarce commodity in these turbulent times. Not that lien has ever been much of a concern for you. The Adels might not be Schnees but you didn't exactly have to worry about how large a hotel bill you're racking up. Yet another thing that separates Velvet from you.

You bring Velvet the mug, wisps of steam still escaping from the surface. She's hunched over, knees drawn up to her chest, so much so that you have to gently nudge her with the porcelain cup. Her head snaps up, an expression of surprise on her face, as if she'd forgotten where she was. But then her eyes dart to the mug in your hand, and back to your face. And then she _smiles_ , a pure, unblemished smile. You can still see the pain, the sorrow etched into the corners of her eyes, but it doesn't control her.

Because as much as she can feel the pain of the world, she can feel your love for her as well.

Her fingers cross over yours as she tries to take the mug, and you hold onto it for just a moment longer than necessary, enough that she has to tug it out of your grip with a playful smile on her lips. It's still too hot but she takes a sip of it anyways, and you can't help but adore the way her ears seem to quiver at the heat.

"I'm sorry I woke you up so early," she apologizes, between sips, though this time you don't hear tears on the edge of her voice. On any other occasion she'd have been right to beg forgiveness - your distaste for early mornings is practically a matter of public record - but like _hell_ are you going to let your girlfriend face her demons alone.

"Velvet!" You mean to say it chidingly but it comes out a bit more abrupt than intended. She flinches ever-so-slightly, and you feel like kicking yourself. "Velvet…" much softer this time, almost apologetically. "I want you to feel better, but I _don't_ want you to ever apologize for feeling the way you do, understood?" She nods slightly, but it's more a nod of politeness than agreement.

"Listen..." You fumble around for words. You're actually not that great at expressing complicated feelings. You grew up keeping emotions in check in the name of maintaining appearances. You may have had a lot of 'friends', but none of the type you were inclined to bare your soul to. _Sangfroid_ usually triumphs over honesty. "The fact that you feel bad is because you _care_ about people. That makes you a _good_ person, Velvs, head-and-shoulders above me." She opens her mouth, ready to offer a defense of your character, but you don't let her, a hand held upright. " _That_ is the person I fell in love with." You jab a finger towards her sternum. "And I don't want you to think that you need to change. Not to be a better Huntress, not to be a better girlfriend, and _definitely_ not because you think it might wake me up at night."

You stand in silence for several seconds, neither of you quite sure what to say. Velvet nurses a few more sips of the hot chocolate, eyes transfixed on the opaque liquid below.

She speaks first, though it's at the edge of your hearing. "Can you say it again?" she asks, not looking up from her mug.

You tilt your head. "Can I say-"

"Say that you love me?" Her head snaps upright, eyes locking onto yours, and there's an edge of desperation in her voice. She hunches up again a heartbeat later, fingers curled around her hot chocolate, as if terrified that she'd violated some unspoken rule.

You have to pry the mug from her hands, setting it precariously down on the floor. She still won't look at you, though you suspect you know why. Velvet _hates_ asking for things, and it drives you crazy. It certainly has complicated your love life, even if there's not a hurdle you can't bulldoze through. Still.

You cup her jaw in your hand, forcing her to look at you. She doesn't avert her gaze, though you're pretty sure she wants to. Being the subject of scrutiny was never one of her strengths. But you just stare into those beautiful brown eyes of hers, at that face which has driven you to the brink of insanity and back. Even at three in the morning there's no disguising that beauty, nor the strength of the person within.

You kiss her, both hands finding their way to her face, wanting all the world for the moment to never end, for the taste of chocolate to never leave your lips. But of course it does, it _has_ to, the seal breaking with a sloppily wet _pop_.

"I love you." The declaration seems so unnecessary to you, it's one you've made a thousand times before, in bed and on battlefields, and everywhere in between. But it means everything to Velvet, it's a pillar of stability in a world collapsing on her. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

She's clutching you now and you fall back to the bed, an arm above and below her body. You keep repeating the words, like it's a mantra, like it's a ward of protection, slipping in a kiss or two whenever you can manage. Her body is warm against yours, no longer clammy with sweat, and after yanking the blanket over you you're playing with her hair once more.

You can feel her crying again, though this time you think it's okay. You might never be able to express it but you need her just as badly. Because as long as you have Velvet you'll know that there are people who are still worth fighting for. That there are hearts still filled with love for mankind. And somehow that makes every burden that much easier to bare, every pain that much easier to endure.

Velvet kisses you, pulling away from your chest without warning to press her lips against your face. Her eyes are still shut and there's a blind passion to her motions, a _need_ that you will do everything to satisfy. She's clutching you hard enough to hurt but somehow you like the pain, like the way her legs are trying to entwine yours in a vice-like grip.

She sits upright long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes, but the grin on her face is idiotically wide. She's atop you, one knee on either side, looking down on you like you're the most interesting thing in the world.

"You're crying," she says, not worriedly or angrily. Almost serenely. She lays herself flat atop you, her body rising and falling with each of your deep breaths. Her hands are by your face.

You force yourself to snort. "Don’t be crazy, Velvs," you chide, running the one hand not pinned by your girlfriend over your eyes. You can lie to your lover but you can't lie to yourself, your fingertips picking up the damning moisture threatening to cloud your vision. "I'm fine."

Velvet kisses you again, on the lips, with infinite softness. She doesn't say anything - she knows you have your pride. But she gives you that smile, letting you know she'll always be there for you.

"I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments please! 
> 
> Man, wrote this in basically a fevered state and one sitting, so please let me know if it's passable. I'm unfamiliar to writing Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, and either Velvet or Coco, so there's a lot I'd like feedback on. Feel like word repetition's a bigger hurdle. And as usual I worry about writing anything that's not smut.
> 
> I actually tend to avoid both Crosshares and Hurt/Comfort fics, so if this has been done before my apologies. Also for any typos. Me no edit good.
> 
> For those of you playing along at home, Jen Brown manages to get a line in. Also only one song lyric reference, so I think I'm getting better about shoehorning in Easter Eggs.


End file.
